by Cindy Stark
She wanted desperately to assure her husband that everything would be fine, but she was no longer certain herself. She didn’t know if that was because his concerns were bleeding into hers, or if she’d legitimately picked up on negative vibes circling around them.
They entered the building and approached a brown counter that was topped with thick glass. A young man with a police uniform and short red hair looked up from a nearby desk and nodded in greeting. He stood and strode toward them. “Can I help you?”
Peter rubbed his palm across the scruff on his chin. “Uh, we’re here to see Chief Burton if he’s in. Peter and Hazel Parrish. He knows us.”
The officer barely looked old enough to drive. “He’s here. Let me see if he has a minute.”
The man strode away, and Hazel looked up to Peter. “Not near as welcoming as your department. And your building is much prettier.”
He chuckled slightly and gave her a small smile. “This village is bigger than ours and likely has more crime, hence the closed off lobby.”
A few moments later, the lock on the door next to the window clicked, and the officer opened it. He led them to a large office at the end of the hall and pointed inside. They stepped in and found Gerald with a bunch of files and numerous papers strewn across his desk. Stunning photos of fishing boats and sunsets decorated the walls.
The casual fisherman from the other day had been transformed into a serious officer of the law. Gerald stood and held out his hand, shaking both of theirs. “Good to see you.”
Hazel took a seat, and Peter did the same.
Peter cleared his throat. “We don’t want to take much of your time, Gerald. Just wondering if you have any news on the case, and if you’ve been able to exonerate my aunt.”
Gerald folded one arm across his big belly, anchored the elbow from his other arm on top of it, and rested his chin on that hand. He studied them for a long moment and then released a weighted exhale. “Olive was definitely poisoned. Found traces in her system and in the coffee mug.”
The air whooshed out of Peter. “Poisoned, huh? Can you tell us the substance?”
Gerald nodded. “Cyanide.”
Peter slid a sideways glance toward Hazel.
Fear crept up her spine, but she kept her focus on Peter lest she react. Instead of speaking, she cautioned him with her eyes and tried to send a silent message to his heart. Let the police do their investigation. See what they find. Don’t willingly implicate your aunt.
He switched his gaze back to Gerald. “I hear that’s a painful way to go.”
“Basically suffocating,” Gerald said.
Hazel feared her husband was about to crack. “Any news on any of the persons of interest?” she asked, drawing attention away from Peter.
The chief shook his head. “We’re working on it.”
Which meant Madeline was still a prime suspect.
Peter reached over and took Hazel’s hand. His pulse thudded faster than normal. “Anything we can do to help?”
Gerald eyed them closer. “Did you visit Alberto’s the other night?”
Peter nodded. “We learned that the coffee came from his bistro.”
“That’s right,” he said. “So, then you know Alberto, Madeline, and Olive’s sister, Vera are the three we’re looking at right now.”
Hazel wanted to cast Tracy’s name into the hat, just to deflect attention from his aunt, but ethically, she couldn’t. “I met Vera yesterday,” she said.
Gerald leaned back in his chair. “As an outsider, what do you think of her?”
Hazel pondered for a moment. “She’s nice, very reserved, seemed to care about her sister, though she did mention they weren’t close.”
He nodded. “Exactly. So, I have three suspects, with the two women not on the best of terms with Olive, and then Alberto who doesn’t seem to have any motive to kill her.”
Peter scratched his chin. “Then maybe none of them did it.”
Gerald chuckled. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”
Color darkened Peter’s cheeks. “What I’d like is for you to find the killer, so that my aunt can get back to a normal life.”
The chief nodded. “Same here, my boy.”
Hazel could tell they were getting nowhere, mostly because the police hadn’t gotten any further in their investigation beyond identifying the poison that had killed Olive. Or, at least, that’s what Gerald wanted them to think.
She stood. “We thank you for your time, Chief Burton. We’ll likely check in again before we head home on Friday.”
Peter followed her cue and stood, too. He shook the chief’s hand again, and Hazel practically ushered him out the door.
When they were out in the fresh, salty air again, she growled her frustration. “What was up with him today? He was exasperating and seemed rude at times.”
“Hazel.”
She turned to her husband and found his features blanched. “They found cyanide in Olive’s system. The bottle from the greenhouse was potassium cyanide.”
Hazel shook her head. “Doesn’t matter. Madeline did not kill Olive. I know that in my very soul.”
He studied her for a long, tense moment. “Maybe Tracy did.”
Maybe, but… “Why would she?”
Peter shrugged, still looking haunted. “To protect my aunt? Or because she wanted Spencer for herself?”
Hazel closed her eyes and let her head drop forward. She wished she knew the answer. “I don’t know, Peter. Those reasons don’t seem likely. I say the best thing we can do right now is keep searching on our own, and let the police do the same.”
He didn’t seem reassured at all. “We could be hiding evidence, Hazel. It’s bad enough that it’s a crime, but what if we’re allowing a killer to live in the same house as my aunt?”
She placed her hands on the sides of her head in frustration. “Ugh. I don’t know. Let’s go back to the bungalow and give our brains time to process. Maybe something will come to us.”
He dipped his head in agreement. “Yeah. Maybe so. Tracy should be back today. My aunt will be home by suppertime, too. I’ll wrangle us an invite, and that will give us a chance to observe Tracy closer.”
She agreed, and together they headed to the car. They were both due back in Stonebridge by the end of the week, which didn’t give them much time. She didn’t know if Peter would be able to leave his aunt in this predicament and go home. And she couldn’t leave Peter if he stayed.
Seventeen
By the next morning, a cloud of misty rain had descended upon Sandpiper Bay, sprinkling Peter and Hazel as they made their way across the damp lawn to the big house. Peter’s stride was long, and Hazel struggled to keep up with him. Her nerves were frayed from a night of worry where she’d debated with herself back and forth whether Tracy could be guilty.
Peter’s demeanor was as compromised as dried mud in the Bay. His exterior was cracking, and she feared it was only a matter of time before everything came pouring out.
When he suddenly stopped short in his tracks halfway up the lawn, Hazel almost tripped trying to do the same. Peter grabbed her arm and tugged her behind a tree. “Look.”
Hazel followed the direction of his pointer finger and caught sight of the back of Tracy’s head as she stepped inside the greenhouse. Mr. Kitty sat beneath a nearby bush and turned his gaze to Hazel.
Her heart squeezed in response, and she glanced at her husband. “What do you think Tracy’s doing?”
His eyes turned an ominous shade of green. “I don’t know. Probably nothing nefarious.”
She nodded quickly, wishing she could agree with her whole heart. “Right. Everything is fine.”
If she’d thought Peter had walked fast before, she practically had to run to keep up with him now. He paused to wait for her as she skipped up the backsteps to the door and then he opened it.
She met his gaze with wide eyes. “Your aunt would know if Tracy was guilty, wouldn’t she? I mean, she’s with her all the time. Tracy w
ould act different or something.”
The look in his eyes only made her worry more. “I think so. But what if she didn’t notice anything because she wasn’t looking for it?”
True. “Maybe we should ask Madeline what she thinks.”
“No.”
His tone left no room for argument.
Hazel lifted both hands in a calming gesture. “Okay, let’s not freak out. We’ll have breakfast and see how it goes. No need to alarm Madeline just yet.”
He nodded in agreement.
Inside, they found his aunt carrying a tray that held a full colonial tea service toward the cherrywood table. She glanced up and smiled. “Good morning, kids. Did you sleep well?”
Hazel snorted and then tried to give a convincing nod.
Peter took the tea service from his aunt and set it down. “I actually didn’t, Aunt Madeline. In fact, I haven’t since we arrived.”
Madeline’s face fell. “Because of the murder.”
“Of course, it’s because of the murder. You are the closest thing I have to a real mom, and you a person of interest in a woman’s death.”
His aunt stepped closer and pulled him into an embrace. The love between them radiated in waves. “I’m so sorry, Peter. This whole affair is such a nasty mess. I guess I secretly hoped you could come and wave a magic wand and the whole thing would go away.”
Hazel choked on a swallow, but neither of them looked her way. If she had a magic wand, she’d certainly use it in this case. She might even consider using a truth candle to confirm her suspicions if she was all but certain who’d committed the crime. It would be her luck, though, that she’d give up a year of her life to question Madeline and another to question Tracy, and they still wouldn’t be any closer to the truth.
Peter looked about the room. “Where’s Tracy?”
Apparently, he wasn’t going to mention they’d just seen her.
Madeline glanced toward a window that showcased the back lawn. “She went to the greenhouse. Wanted some fresh basil and thyme for scrambled eggs.”
Hazel’s heart thudded loud enough for everyone back in Stonebridge to hear.
Peter nodded without changing his expression. “I thought you didn’t like others in your greenhouse.”
Madeline waved away his concern with a flick of her hand. “Of course, I don’t mind if Tracy uses it. She’s cooking for the both of us, you know. Honestly, she’s in there more than I am these days, and your Uncle Charles was the one who practically lived there. The arthritis in my hands has been acting up, so it makes it harder to do much planting or pruning.”
The older woman winked at Hazel. “Who I didn’t want in there was a bunch of hooligan boys, playing hide and seek and destroying everything in their paths.”
Hazel tried to lighten the mood by rolling her eyes. “Can’t imagine anyone in this room who’d do that.”
Madeline chuckled. “Come on. Let’s sit. Tracy will be right back.”
Peter and Hazel both did as they were asked, but the palpable tension in the room increased by degrees. She wondered if his aunt noticed, or if she was completely oblivious.
“Something smells delicious,” Hazel said.
“Tracy never disappoints.”
An uncomfortable thought filtered through her. Would Tracy notice that the poison was missing? Or worse, if Tracy was the murderer, and she knew someone had taken the poison, would she guess it was Peter and her, and try to kill them, too?
Peter cleared his throat. “Aunt Madeline, how well do you actually know Tracy?”
Hazel’s nerves tightened. So much for not questioning his aunt.
Madeline frowned, and the wrinkles in her forehead deepened. “Well. Very well, as a matter of fact. We’ve lived in the same house for years.”
Peter’s gaze remained dispassionate, and Hazel braced herself for what she’d thought wouldn’t happen. “Well enough that if she’d committed murder, you would know?” Peter asked.
Madeline’s surprised gasp echoed in the quite room. “Peter Parrish. What on earth has gotten into you?”
He stood to meet his aunt’s gaze head on. “The poison that killed Olive was cyanide.”
His aunt stared at him blankly.
“We found a container of it in your greenhouse the other day.”
Color faded from the older woman’s face. “That can’t be.”
“It is,” Peter responded.
Madeline stared at him for several long moments and then straightened her spine. “For all you know, it could be mine. Are you going to accuse me of murder next?”
The despair bouncing between the two, yanked on Hazel’s heartstrings and nearly tore her apart.
“Is it?” Peter questioned. “Is it yours?”
Madeline’s mouth dropped open in shock. “No,” she answered quietly. “But the presence of it means nothing. There are a million reasons she might use it. Pest control for one.”
Peter clenched his jaw. “Then you can’t know for sure if she’s innocent or not.”
Madeline shook her head, the action jiggling her cheeks that were now bright from anger. “I do know it.”
Peter opened his hands wide. “I’m only trying to protect you.”
“You’re protecting me from the wrong person, and I won’t have you sit here and eat Tracy’s delicious food while you’re calling her a murderer behind her back. She had no reason to go after Olive.”
“Madeline,” Hazel said, butting in. “You told me the other day that Tracy had a crush on Spencer, that they’d dated when he first came to Sandpiper Bay.”
Madeline’s look of betrayal sank deep into Hazel’s heart. “I said she did once, and that she’d soon learned he wasn’t all he was cracked up to be. That does not make her a murderer, either.”
Hazel had to somehow fix the situation and fast. “I’m sorry, Madeline. It’s like Peter said. We’re only trying to help.”
The older woman shook her head. “What will help is for you to both leave. Right now. Go on. Get along. I’m going to need time to get over this.”
“Aunt Madeline,” Peter said.
His aunt gave her head a determined shake. “I’ve heard all I need to. Please go.”
She turned her back and strode from the room, leaving them alone with echoing silence.
Peter tilted his head toward the back door. The look of anguish on his face nearly undid her. “Let’s go.”
Hazel could do nothing but agree.
They didn’t see Tracy as they made their way back, and Hazel was grateful when they were behind the confines of the bungalow’s door.
Peter scrubbed his hand over his face. “Ugh, Hazel. You know what I have to do, don’t you?”
She met his gaze with a consoling look of her own. “Are you sure? I don’t think that Madeline will ever forgive you.”
“Maybe not, but I know I’ll never forgive myself if Tracy hurts her, too.”
She cringed when he pulled out his phone and dialed. There was nothing left she could do at this point other than send a silent prayer to the universe.
Not long afterward, the sound of approaching cars filled the silence. Peter gave her one last look and headed outside. Hazel knew she was a coward for not joining him, but she also knew there would be an enormous amount of pain attached to his choice, and she couldn’t bear to watch.
She returned to the closet in their bedroom and quietly whispered the spell that would make the bottle of cyanide visible once again. She used a paper towel, so she didn’t leave fingerprints on the evidence, lifted it from the shelf, and set it on the table near the couch. Then she returned to the bedroom, closed the door, and called Cora for support.
When Peter opened the door an hour later, Hazel had finished her call along with a massive unloading of stress. The look on his face told her everything. She walked to him and slipped her arms around his neck, holding him close.
He buried his face in her hair. “They took Tracy to the station for questioning.”
/> “It will be okay. If your heart told you this was the right thing to do, then everything will be all right.”
Peter pulled away and stared at her. The look in his eyes broke her heart. “That’s just it, Hazel. When I watched them put her into the police cruiser, I knew I’d made a massive mistake. Worse, I have no idea how to fix it.”
She exhaled a sigh heavy with emotion. “Let me check Vera’s house. Maybe Olive’s office, too. There has to be something they’ve missed that will give us a clue.”
The fact that he didn’t shoot her down right away gave her hope. “I just wish this was my town,” he said. “Then I could use my resources.”
She did, too. At least then if she got caught breaking and entering, she’d have someone on her side. “We could play it safe and ask Gerald and his men to check again.”
His despair tugged at her. “You said Vera told you they’d already searched, and Vera has, too. As much as I don’t like this, using magic might be the only solution.”
She understood his hesitation. “I’m confident I can do this, Peter. Madeline pointed out Vera’s house while we were walking to the library, so I know right where to go.”
He shook his head. “Oh, no. You aren’t doing this without me. You have the magic skills, and I have the investigative skills. We’re a team, remember?”
She furrowed her brows. “You have a lot more to lose than I do if we get caught.”
He paused for a moment as though considering and then nodded. “As you said, you’re confident you can get us in, and the chance of ending this is worth the risk.”
A shiver of apprehension rippled through her. Unfortunately, his confidence in her made hers slip a notch.
Eighteen
The heavy pitter patter of afternoon rain on the bedroom window matched Hazel’s wild heartbeats. She pulled her hair back into a ponytail and then changed into dark jeans and put on her dark blue waterproof jacket that had a hood. Hopefully all those things would make her less noticeable and less recognizable on the street. She glanced across the room to Peter who was doing the same.
